Nine Minutes and Fortytwo Seconds
by Falconflight
Summary: For Jemennui's Sibling Challenge. Discliamer: I do not own Harry Potter. Fred Weasley the second is older than Roxanne by nine minutes and forty-two seconds, but those don't make that big of a difference.


_**For Jemennui's Sibling Challenge**_

**_Nine Minutes and Forty-two Seconds_**

* * *

He's older than me by exactly nine minutes and forty-two seconds. It wasn't that big of a difference, and it was the little things that made up that difference. You could see it in our actions, in the way we talked, in the way we did everything, that I was the younger one, even if it was only by nine minutes and forty-two seconds.

I reflected back on the moments when I felt like the older child. There were few, and they weren't as large as this one, but they were still there…

"Off to Hogwarts!"

I shook Fred's limp figure. He gave a loud, muffled snore.

"Freddie-bear, time to get up!" I trilled.

I grabbed the nearest pillow and thumped him over the head.

"Roxy, GO AWAY!" Fred yelled. "I'll get up on my own accord, thanks."

"No," I answered stubbornly. "And don't call me Roxy! You _will _wake up when I tell you to. Now, UP!"

Then, I jumped on Fred. In a flash, he was up. Fred pinned me down on the bed with his hand over my throat. He looked truly murderous; his eyes were blood-shot and he was a total bed-head.

I wasn't worried, though. I knew Fred's ultimate weakness. Like all older brothers, and unlike me, Fred had a guilty conscience.

"OW!" I cried. "Fred, you're hurting me!"

I clutched my arm in mock pain. Fred fell for it, and he jumped off of me.

"Sorry, Roxanne," he mumbled. Fred only used my first name when he was really mad, or sad. "On the bright side, we're off to Hogwarts!"

"Mmm," I murmured. I began to hobble towards the door.

Fred got there first and he stepped out. At that second, jets of slimy, yellow puss shot at Fred. I snickered and began to run away.

"Sucker!" I shouted as I ran down the stairs.

Mum was up as well. She turned and glared at me.

"What have you done?" she demanded.

"Well… what have I done?" I frowned, asking myself. "Ah! I've stuffed ice down my brother's shirt, not-so-accidentally turned your pancakes into a stork and called Belinda a pumpkin shortly before truly-accidentally turning her into one."

Belinda is our house elf. Dad got her for mum after she had a nervous break down over a ruined Christmas diner. Mum was so happy, that she insisted on doing all the work anyways for the week to come. That was when I called Belinda a pumpkin and accidentally turned her into one. She's not mad at me. She's got a sense of humor for a house elf.

"Don't be a smart-alec with me," Mum scolded. "What have you done this time?"

"Puss," I answered, smiling. "Freddie-Bear is currently covered in puss."

She eyed me. I knew what she was wondering.

"Trip wire," I answered.

"Ingenious," she muttered. "You've got your father's brains when it comes to pranks. So, where is little pussy?"

Her question was answered when dad marched down stairs with Fred tailing behind. He wasn't puss-covered any more.

Usually, when one of us pulls a prank, dad is happy. He usually pretends to be mad, but he's actually glad. Not this time, though. He truly looked angry.

"Roxanne," he hissed. That was a bad sign. He always called me Roxy. "Room. Now."

Those are the two words that every child detests hearing, especially if their name is before it. If you're name's not before it, then you're grounded. Otherwise, it's a one-on-one talk. I like having one-on-one talks with someone of the same sex, thank you very much.

"Roxanne, I am very disappointed in you," dad announced.

This was how all parent lectures begin, and if you brought ear plugs, you're in luck. Usually, they begin to go on and on, ranting and sometimes yelling at you at the top of their lungs. Otherwise, they're going to tell you about how whatever you did was wrong. But dad didn't go on.

"I don't understand," I admitted at last.

"You tricked Fred," he stated.

"And?" I frowned. "You're always proud of me when -"

"Not that!" he exclaimed. "Though that was pretty ingenious. But, that's the point. You pretended to be hurt."

"And?" I repeated.

"And that hurt him!" dad snarled.

"Since when do I care?" I asked stubbornly.

I thought he was going to be really mad now. But dad sighed, and sat down on my bed.

"I was younger than Fred, did you know that?" he asked. "I know how you feel. He is his own person, and his emotions shouldn't be your problem. But they are. As the younger sibling, you have virtually no fear and no guilty conscience. Fred is very unhappy now, unhappy that you manipulated him. You need to be the older one now. You need to guide him. And it starts by saying 'I'm Sorry'."

Any middle/youngest child hates saying those words. I know I do. But this time… I heard the truth in dad's words. I truly did want to apologize…

"She broke up with me."

Fred's voice jeered my thoughts. We were in the Room of Requirements. He was sobbing into his hands. He had finally removed them to speak.

"Who?" I frowned. I wasn't aware of Fred having a girl friend.

"Ellen Mackenzie," Fred answered. "She broke up with me. We weren't… actually going out, but she still-"

He was crying again. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and hugged him tightly. I remembered in our fourth year, we had been in this exact position. Except the circumstances were different; much different…

It was the Christmas dance. Andrew Wood had offered to take me. I had never felt more happy. I was wearing a bright scarlet dress to match the Gryffindor color. He was wearing dress robes.

"Let's dance," he announced, casting me a luminous smile.

We began to dance. I felt as light as feather as I whirled around in his arms. And we danced endlessly into the night. I didn't have to stop, I didn't want to stop, but…

I felt someone grab my waist, and tear me away from Andrew. Suddenly, my lips were crushing against someone else's. My attacker bit my lip and I winced. He slipped his tongue through my parted lips.

There was a _crack_ as a fist met flesh. He released me, and turned on Fred. He had punched him. Him also turned out to be Davies, Loren Davies.

Davies was built like a beater. He had strong muscles and was considerably large. Fred may have looked identical to dad, but he had Mum's body. He was a chaser. He had no chance against Fred.

Andrew threw his hands around me in a protective hug. I shoved him off. I wouldn't let Fred be destroyed by Davies.

There was another _crack_. Fred had a bloody nose. _Crack_. A black eye _Crack_. A bruised stomach. _Crack_. A kick in the balls.

"_PERTIFICUS TOTALUS!_" I screamed at the top of my lungs, pointing my wand (which I kept with me at all times, even if I was at a dance) at Davies. He fell to the floor.

Fred's face was distorted with pain and fear. He was crying too. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to me…

"I thought she liked me," Fred continued. I was pulled away from the memory to be in the same pose three years later. "She said she did. But I saw her, just now, snogging Harrison Dom."

"I'm sorry, Fred," I whispered. I had only said those words twice in my life to Fred. Once while I was apologizing to Fred for tricking him before I was even at Hogwarts, and once when I was in my sixth year. This same thing had happened to me…

"What are you doing?"

Leo Mounce was snogging Katrina Wills. I felt my heart plummet like a cold stone. Leo had been my boyfriend for two months. He laughed coldly, pulling Katrina against his body.

"Hello, Roxy," he purred. "Fancy meeting you here."

"What are you doing?" I repeated.

"Snogging this wonderful Katrina Wills," Leo answered. "Which, I might add, is a much better kisser than you are."

"You're… breaking up with me?" I asked, fight back the tears.

"Yes," he agreed. "But I'll leave you a parting gift. Close your eyes, dear Katrina."

He came forward and yanked me against him. I fought him off, but Leo was strong. He held me tight. He leaned in and kissed me. I was used to being kissed against my will, and screwed up my face, closing myself from him. He kneed me in the stomach, but I kept my mouth closed, regardless of the pain. He scowled, and he threw me to the ground. I let him, though. The truth was just sinking in.

I collapsed to the ground like he was my only support. I watched them walk away, and then, when they were out of sight, and no one was there, I began to cry. I began to sob so loudly, I was surprise no one heard. But someone did hear: Fred.

"Roxanne?"

He crouched down to my level. I didn't respond.

"Roxy?" he asked again, hopefully.

"Leo Mounce broke up with me," I spat.

There was silence.

"I'm sorry, Fred," I whispered at last.

"Why are you sorry?" he demanded.

"For being a stupid younger sister who gets all choked up because of one little break up," I snarled. "I'm sorry for being stupid, self-centered, and I'm sorry for being your horrible sister. I'm sorry for bringing his all upon you."

"Don't be sorry, Roxanne," he retorted. "You're a wonderful sister. You're the best, in fact. Don't be sorry…"

"I'm," he choked through tears, "I'm supposed to be the oldest one. I'm the one who's supposed to be looking after you."

"Fred," I whispered. "You're only older than me by nine minutes and fort-two seconds."

"Still," he sobbed, "th- the oldest child's supposed to look after the younger one. I'm supposed to be the oldest one -"

"What do you mean 'supposed to'?" I demanded. "Am I secretly older than you?"

"You know what I mean," he mumbled.

"I do," I answered sincerely. "Look, Fred… I know what it's like, having to carry the weight of the family. I know what it's like to think you have to be the best. You don't, Fred. I'll take over for a while. You can have a turn at being the crazy, wild youngest child that's super crazy but still gets away with everything, and I'll be the responsible older kid."

"Neither of us are responsible," Fred reminded me.

"Once more than the other," I replied. "Let me have a chance. I won't let you down, Fred. I promise."

He looked at me. His eyes were still tear-stained, but they looked brighter, more hopeful. We hugged each other.

So maybe, those nine minutes and forty-two seconds don't matter. Maybe, we're both the same age, but one is more responsible than the other. Or maybe, those nine minutes and forty-two seconds make us who we are, but we can put those aside when it comes to age.

_Yes_ I thought. That was it. Nine minutes and forty-two seconds made me different than Fred, but they didn't effect age, and they didn't effect anything else, just who we were. _Nine minutes, forty-two seconds…_


End file.
